Friends, our nation has, for centuries, been a cradle for great men and women, brimming with the qualities of sages, poets, writers, musicians, and more. The countless works created by these individuals are invaluable treasures. Today's youth, immersed in the digital age, seem to be losing touch with this heritage, drifting farther from our precious legacy. subkuz.com consistently strives to connect you with these invaluable treasures, alongside engaging stories, news, and insights from around the world. Presented here is a truly inspiring story, penned by the esteemed author Munshi Premchand.
Harshness and Love
Suvama was feverishly preparing for her marriage, consumed by the rituals from dawn until dusk. Sushila, like a cherry blossom, dutifully obeyed her every command. Munshi Sanjeevan Lal spent his days traversing the bustling marketplace, while Virjan, the object of all this preparation, remained confined to her room, weeping incessantly. No one had the time to offer her even a moment's respite. Even Pratap, now seemed cold and uncaring. Pratap's heart too was heavy these days. He'd arrive home at dawn, only to sit silently on his mat. He'd sworn an oath to never visit Virjan's house. Yet, whenever he saw her approaching, he'd discreetly slink away. If he did encounter her, he'd react with such aloofness and coldness that Virjan would begin to cry, pleading with Suvama, "Aunty, Lallu is angry with me. I call out to him but he doesn't respond. Please go and pacify him." Driven by her distress, she would grasp Suvama's sari and tug her towards Pratap's house. But at the sight of both, Pratap would flee. Vrujarani would follow, calling out, "Lallu, listen for a moment! Hear my words! By our oath..." But if he remained unresponsive, deaf to her pleas, the poor girl would collapse onto the ground, weeping bitterly, "Why is he so angry with me? I haven't wronged him in any way." Suvama would comfort her, "My child. Just let it be. Lallu has lost his mind." Suvama had begun to understand the source of her son's harshness.
Only five days remained before the wedding. Relatives and friends, near and far, started arriving. A beautiful mandap adorned the courtyard. The bangles were exchanged. These simple threads, these bangles, represent the sacred bonds of marriage, ties that never break. The mandap shelters the love and grace that will forever remain. This evening, Suvama, Sushila, and the other women went to worship the Goddess together. The maids were engrossed in their tasks. Virjan, overwhelmed with anxiety, left her home and found her way to Pratap's. An eerie quiet hung in the air. Only a faint light flickered in Pratap's room. Entering, Virjan saw a lamp on the table and Pratap asleep on a cot. In the dim light, his figure appeared pale and distressed. Disarray reigned around him. Dust covered the floor. Books were strewn about. It seemed as though the room hadn't been touched in months. This was the Pratap who cherished cleanliness. Virjan hesitated to wake him. Instead, she carefully collected the scattered books, returning them to the shelves. She swept the dust from the table, lifted the cobwebs from the paintings. Suddenly, Pratap stirred and spoke, "Virjan. I cannot forget you." A moment later, "Virjan," he whispered, "where are you going? Stay here." Then, changing position, he said, "You won't stay? Very well. I won't speak to you." After a pause, "Very well. Go. Let's see where you go." He moved with the urgency of someone trying to catch a fleeing person. Virjan's hand touched his. Her eyes opened wide. For a full minute, his gaze, devoid of expression, was fixed on her. Then, abruptly, he sat up, releasing her hand. "Virjan, when did you arrive? I had just been dreaming of you."
Virjan wanted to reply, but her voice caught in her throat, and tears welled up in her eyes. Pratap looked around, then said, "Did you clean all this? You must have had a great deal of trouble." Virjan remained silent.
Pratap: "Virjan, why do you keep forgetting me?"
Virjan, her eyes filled with moisture, asked, "Have you forgotten me?"
Pratap, ashamed, bowed his head. For a time, they gazed at the ground, filled with unspoken emotions. Then Virjan inquired, "Why are you angry with me? Have I done something wrong?"
Pratap: "I don't know why, but now, whenever I see you, I want to run away."
Virjan: "Don't you feel any affection for me? I cry all day. Don't you feel any pity for me? You don't even speak to me. What did I say that made you so angry?"
Pratap: "I wasn't angry with you."
Virjan: "Then why don't you talk to me?"
Pratap: "I want to forget you. You are wealthy, your parents are rich, I am an orphan. What do we have in common?"
Virjan: "Until now, you've never made this excuse. Have I become wealthier?"
With these words, Virjan began to weep. Pratap's heart softened. "Virjan," he said, "We've been together for so long. Now, the time of separation has come. Soon, you'll leave this place for your in-laws' home. Therefore, I too want to forget you. But I wish I could forget your words, they keep resurfacing. I was just now dreaming of you."
And thus concludes a captivating tale by the great writer Munshi Premchand. This story offers invaluable lessons. The entire subkuz team is dedicated to providing daily inspirational stories to its visitors. Continue to enjoy such inspiring and insightful stories on subkuz.com.
